Acquiring Mr. Right

Her eyebrows went up at the flat statement.

“I believe in paying people what they’re worth,” he said. “I think you’re going to be worth a lot. To the company.” He wasn’t sure if the clarifying phrase was meant for her or himself.

The interest that had begun while studying her orderly financial statements and the many memos outlining her ideas for the company had blossomed into an attraction upon meeting her yesterday. Today her professional and personal sides had combined into one very interesting package.

He wondered if she kept those two parts as separate as he did…as he usually did. He mentally frowned and forced his thoughts to Heymyer Home Appliances, which was the reason they were here.

“If you could do anything you wanted at the company,” he began, “what would be the first change you would make?”

She was silent for a moment before she said, “There wouldn’t be one thing. Several changes would have to work together. New product lines. New equipment. New production processes.” She paused, her eyes on the tiny rosebuds in a vase on the table. The long, lovely sweep of lashes lifted as she looked at him. “New money.”

“Work up a proposal. I want the business turned around in six months.”

She stared at him, then a slow smile started at the corners of her mouth and ended with a sparkle in her eyes. “I can give it to you now verbatim.”

During the next two hours, they went over several of her ideas. As he listened, Lance found he liked her spunk, her enthusiasm, her wide-ranging intelligence.

If the owners of the company had listened to some of her “dingbat notions,” they might have saved the business from his takeover.

As far as Lance could determine, Heymyer’s wife, who held the title of secretary, was in Florida visiting her mother and sister. Their thirty-nine-year-old son operated out of their New York office. He’d been the vice president and in charge of marketing. Neither had done much good for the business that furnished their living, or so it appeared to him.

From going over the company’s records before making an offer, he’d concluded that only Heymyer and the CFO were avidly involved. The home appliance manufacturer needed modernizing, a fact that Krista understood well.

“New lines,” she now told him in her earnest manner. “I’m thinking of a hip name, like Uptown. Anyway, the shapes would be modern. And the colors, we should go wild with the colors—jewel tones, pastels, retro shades.”

Her graceful, expressive eyebrows rose as if she had her arguments down pat in case he disagreed. She drew outlines in the air as she described new items.

When she hesitated, he nodded and smiled encouragement. The new company would fit in nicely with the original one he’d acquired, with the help of a sizable inheritance from his grandmother, shortly after he’d graduated from college.

His grandfather had been furious, but Lance had made that business a success and therefore hadn’t had to accept any help from his only living relative. Only a sense of duty pushed him into visiting the old tyrant a few times a year.

For a second, he drifted back in time to those months when he’d thought his parents would come for him, when he’d believed in them with all his heart and soul. But his father had run off a bridge, his blood alcohol level twice that allowed by law, two months after the custody battle. And his mother…

The pain of the moment when he’d learned of her death swept over him. She’d died of pneumonia that winter, alone and forgotten by everyone but him.

From that day forward, he’d kept his feelings under wraps. He’d loved his grandmother, a gentle woman who’d tended her house and gardens with quiet joy, but he’d never let himself become dependent on anyone again—

God, he didn’t know why those old memories had returned to haunt him at this late date. At thirty-four, with nearly thirteen years’ experience behind him, he’d taken five failing companies under the CCS banner and made them into viable projects. He would do the same with this one.

None of the other five had been as interesting as this one promised to be, though. Perhaps because of the CFO and her brilliant mind and very feminine allure?

James had thought she should stick to balance sheets and leave the ideas to him. “She wants to put computers in toasters, for God’s sake,” the old man had said, shaking his head. He’d thought her ideas foolish because she’d wanted to make the appliances more versatile, to put computer chips in them to control the temperatures and cook times and make it possible to add features the old owner had never dreamed of.

Lance let his gaze drift over her as he listened, her lovely face filled with enthusiasm and energy. He liked her ideas and the way she challenged him, making him see the possibilities through her eyes.

Most of all, he liked being surprised by those little dimples that appeared when she smiled….

Chapter Three

Krista arrived at work thirty minutes later than normal, thanks to a flat tire. The low-slung red sports car was already in the CEO spot. Her heart thumped like a mad drummer, which quite annoyed her as she crossed the parking lot.

She halted with one foot on the sidewalk in front of the entrance. A sign was attached to a post supporting the cover over the red car. It had her name on it.

Frowning, she changed direction and went to the covered parking area. While there was space for two vehicles under the portico, no one had dared challenge James’s exclusive right to the middle of the spot. Lance had left plenty of room for another car.

Disgruntled at yet another change, she marched into the building and up the stairs. Her secretary gave her a warning glance when she arrived at the door of the CFO suite.

“Good morning, Tiff. Is something up that I should know about?” she asked, pausing by the other’s desk.

“Mason came in about fifteen minutes ago and headed straight for the big office.”

Krista was taken aback by this information. Mason in town was a surprise, and his being at the office was a shock, especially in light of the new ownership. “Trouble?”

Tiff shrugged. “Mason raised his voice once, but since then I haven’t heard anything.”

Krista nodded and continued into her office. After storing her purse in the credenza, she stopped in front of an ornate wall mirror and studied her reflection.

A tiny frown of tension was evident in two little lines between her eyes. She forced the muscles to relax.

This morning she wore one of her power suits, as Uncle Jeff’s wife Caileen called them. As a Family Services counselor, her aunt—step-aunt, actually, since Jeff Aquilon had been a brother to Krista’s and Tony’s stepfather—had helped her select clothing for the business image she’d wanted to project when she’d had to do a senior presentation in college.

Deciding against all black for her first day as the COO, she’d chosen black slacks with a gray pinstripe. The pinstripe had a touch of red running through it. The tailored blouse was also black, but the suit jacket was a buttery soft leather in brilliant power red.

She looked, she thought, like a woman who knew what she was doing, who knew where she was going—like a woman who was used to taking charge.

Fortunately, only she knew her knees were knocking.

Her intercom buzzed. When she answered, Tiff told her she was wanted in the CEO’s office.

Going into the corridor, she reflected that James had always opened the conference room door and bellowed her name so that it could be heard clear out to the parking lot. A polite request through the secretary was another change, one for the better, in her opinion. She hated yelling of any kind.

Before she reached the end office, she came face-to-face with Mason, who was leaving it. “Hello, Mason,” she said in a friendly fashion.

He stopped in front of her, his smile more of a sneer than a greeting. “My, you certainly move fast when you put your mind to it, don’t you?”

She tried to figure out just what his remark meant. When she’d first been promoted to head of the accounting department, the heir-apparent had tried to put a move on her, but she’d acted obtuse, as if she didn’t catch on that he was trying to start something.

Even at twenty-two, she’d known it was bad judgment to get involved with someone who could derail her fledgling career. There was also the fact that he didn’t appeal to her in any way, shape or form.

“I try,” she said lightly, assuming he referred to her now being the chief operations officer and aware that all around them others were straining their ears to hear what was being said between them. “I wasn’t sure you would be with us anymore.”

“Where did you think I would be?” he demanded in a definite snarl.

“I thought you might decide to retire and live the life of a rich playboy,” she told him, knowing he liked to imagine himself as a jet-setter.

“Not with my father controlling the purse strings,” he said, anger overriding the earlier sarcasm. “And now, you’re the one in charge. Maybe the new CEO will let you try some of your ideas.”

His tone implied he shared his father’s views of her notions. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” she said calmly.